


Legacy

by beng



Series: The Dawn Will Come [7]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassin specialization, Cadash headcanons, Character Study, Execution, F/M, Flashbacks of Redcliffe, Gen, Judgment of Alexius, Responsibility, Revenge, Skyhold, dejection, mentions of torture and violence, pre-Explanations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beng/pseuds/beng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rinata is stuck in Skyhold, recovering after a concussion. While Blackwall continues to avoid her, the Dalish assassin is taking Rinata's understanding of the craft to a whole new level, and when the guards drag in Gereon Alexius, it all clicks together.</p><p>(Do I still tag it as a romantic relationship, if it's sort of there but nothing really happens between them?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

Sighing quietly, Rinata leans against the well and closes her eyes, enjoying the rare spot of sunlight that has found its way through the grey winter clouds to the lower yard of Skyhold.

She’s trying to take it easy. Even a week after returning from the Exalted Plains, occasional dizzy spells and black spots in her vision remind her that bashing her head on a stone floor is not an injury that heals overnight. By all rights, she should be still in bed, but there’s only so much an Inquisitor can do confined to her quarters.

She came down in the morning to talk with the trainers that Leliana had arranged for her: an artificer, an assassin and a grenades specialist. All three had seemed decent sorts, but Rinata has chosen to train with Heir, the Dalish assassin.

A cloud passes over the sun, and Rinata straightens up. She glances at the stables on the other side of the yard, considering for a fleeting moment dropping in and saying hi to Blackwall. But he hasn’t talked to her since their return from the Plains, just nodded curtly if they happen to see each other when she comes down to the throne room or the garden. She knows from Varric that he has been asking about her, but… But he never came up to see her.

Rinata sighs as she looks at the stables again, then turns and starts trudging back up to the main hall.

 

*

She’s sitting on her balcony, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, and trying to read some report. Apparently it’s something that Josephine has considered harmless enough to give to the ailing Inquisitor. But she cannot concentrate, and it has nothing to do with her shaken brain. She's still thinking about what Heir said.

Rinata Cadash is a spy and assassin. She's the heiress to the lyrium smuggling network of Ostwick. The tale she spun for Josephine glossed over some details, but talking to her new trainer has brought it all back, and... It feels right.

“We hit where and when it hurts most. In so doing, we send a message,” the Dalish assassin said, and her words lit some half-extinguished flame inside Rinata, something that had been almost erased by the Inquisition politics and diplomacy, and the noble ideals of one stubborn Grey Warden.

There were no noble ideals in the Carta, of course. It was — still is — all about money and power, and House Cadash are doing their best to get more of both. Judging from her mother’s letters, they are close to succeeding too, in no small part thanks to the information and money that Rinata has access to now.

She prays that no one ever finds out about the couple of letters of credit she’s forged for them.

Rinata knows that her family would push the related deals as quickly and quietly as possible, and return the money before anyone has even noticed it’s missing. Even so she feels sick to her stomach thinking about the reaction of her inner circle, should they ever find out. Some, like Josephine, would take it as a personal offense. Others may roll their eyes, say all’s well that ends well, as long as the money is back in the Inquisition’s coffers. But Blackwall and Cassandra would never forgive her.

Often she wonders — does everyone think that matriarchy is the normal way for dwarves? At least Varric and Harding should know better. Maybe they think she comes from some clan of man-eaters that have simply taken over the decision making?

They’re not man-eaters. Rinata sighs as she remembers the notes and letters telling of bandit attacks and cave-ins, assassinations and executions. Some were accidents, and some could have been prevented if only they’d had enough power within the Carta. She’d be damned if she confesses to her scam before her family is in the position it needs to be.

For better or for worse, Rinata is a Cadash before she’s an Inquisitor. She can let herself be kind and generous, but she can also play dirty and be as ruthless as any thug. She cannot cast away her past. Especially not when her future seems so uncertain and empty.

In the end, her family back in Ostwick may be all that she has.

 

*

Rinata has finished with the report, and the sun is starting to set over the mountains, when a servant brings a note from Josephine requesting her presence down in the main hall. Apparently, another prisoner is awaiting judgment.

Rinata walks slowly, one hand trailing along the wall. She doesn't feel very well, and she's is in no particular hurry to dole out justice.

The hall is fuller than usual. She notices Leliana whispering with Josie and Cullen. Blackwall stands in the crowd closer to the exit, the large hat at his side hiding Cole. Dorian, unsurprisingly, stands on the opposite side of the hall, hands crossed over his chest. Iron Bull sticks out like a sore thumb, large and unapologetic, with the Chargers milling around him, some curious and some suspicious.

Sighing, Rinata takes her place on the throne and waves for the guards to bring in the unfortunate bastard.

When she sees who it is, she immediately rethinks her mild choice of words.

“You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter,” Josephine starts, and Rinata sits up straighter, her hands curling around the arm rests as she fights the urge to walk up to the man and simply bury a knife in his chest.

“The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination — on your own life, no less,” the ambassador continues. Attempted destruction of the whole Thedas, Rinata adds, in her mind. Ripping the time apart while serving a monster; betraying and torturing everyone. Bringing nothing but ruin and death, and suffering.

As Josephine speaks, Rinata glances over the hall, her gaze stopping on Leliana. Tortured, maimed, with her skin used for experiments, her faith ridiculed and exploited.

Iron Bull, rotting in a dungeon because he engaged a horde of demons rather than backing down and fleeing.

Fiona, barely alive as her body succumbs to red lyrium.

And Blackwall… Rinata’s gaze seeks him out among the crowd, his brow furrowed as he watches the prisoner. A cold fury wells up inside her as she remembers the dull clash of armour as a terror demon casts aside the Warden's dead body, as arrows pierce Leliana’s chest.

Thankfully, it will forever be just a grim story to them, a useful warning. She glances at Dorian, and then it hits her that this is the only person in the whole world who truly knows what it was like. Without him, people might as well accuse her of being crazy.

But Dorian nods at her imperceptibly, and she knows that it was real. She catches Heir’s eye at the far end of the hall and knows exactly what message she wants to send.

She tries to keep a blank face as Josephine finishes reading the formal accusations, and she doesn’t miss a beat as she asks for her ceremonial sword.

 

*

The sun is setting, casting everything in hues of red and gold. The mountains are a magnificent backdrop to the wooden platform they erected for the traveling troupe of actors that passed through Skyhold less than a week ago.

The simpering magister is kneeling on the uneven boards, hands tied behind his back.

Rinata climbs the steps slowly — not because she’s hesitant but because she doesn’t want to pass out in front of everyone as she’s overcome by yet another bout of dizziness. She is not thinking clearly. She feels drunk and untethered, and the sword is heavy in her hands.

The people are looking up at her as she steps onto the platform. She sees curious faces in the crowd, disapproving faces, agitated faces. However, she realizes that, on the platform, she's standing alone.

In the end, she always suspected it would be this way.

She's a Cadash, but she's also the Inquisitor. She's a murderer and a protector, walking the lonely road between life and death. The whole world will become her family, and she will fight for it as long as she lives, killing filth like Alexius without a single regret. It doesn't matter what she wants. She is the blade that she holds.

The sword falls, cutting through the magister’s neck as easily as if his flesh was mere dream or illusion. The head rolls down the platform and stops at Blackwall’s feet.

When he looks up at her, she knows she’s become her own assassin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos to iscatterthemintimeandspace for correcting my English dumbs and (hopefully) not banging her head on the wall too much as she read this.
> 
> And hugs to all the people who keep reading my stories. Someday I'll get to fluff and smut too, I promise.
> 
> Oh, and a disclaimer: some of Rinata's musings are taken quite directly from Heir's dialogue, including that last bit about being her own assassin.


End file.
